


This Lovely Day

by moonflowers



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Captain Harry Hart, Civilian Eggsy, Dancing, Did I Mention Fluff, Fever Dreams, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Historical Inaccuracy, Kingsman still exists though, Light Angst, M/M, Merlin the unintentional cockblock, Mostly T-rated, Non-Graphic Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Praise Kink, Private Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Smoking, Spy Harry, WW2, World War II, loosely speaking, only very slightly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was handsome, any fool could have seen that. A few inches shorter than Harry, stocky frame made leaner than suited him from army life, his jaw and cheekbones sharp with it. He had the scrubbed look of someone who'd only recently been able to have a decent wash, sandy hair in slight disarray from drink and dancing, face pinked from the exertion of it and full lips made darker by the night. He tilted his chin up in greeting as he approached, arching an eyebrow as he gestured to the cigarette glowing between Harry's fingers.</p><p>"Don't s'pose you got one going spare, guv?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Vera Lynn's Auf Wiedersehen Sweetheart, because I'm an enormous cliché. My knowledge of WW2 is very basic, so expect a bit of artistic licence.  
> A load of really good fics updated today, and it made me want to write things, so...

Harry didn't particularly enjoy being told what to do. He could follow orders, certainly - he'd had little choice at school and in the army, and continued to do as he was bid by his superiors (within reason) after being recruited into Kingsman in 1919. He was one of the first to be knighted, in fact, something he never let Percival forget. But that had been over twenty years ago, he was now trying to drag himself through another world war, and quite frankly, Merlin bossing him about and pulling rank was the last thing he wanted. It may have been what he needed, in Merlin's defence, but like hell was he going to admit that. Really, it was all very well telling him he needed to take a breather, but there were things to be done, and - not to sound egotistical - Harry was one of the few with the skills to see them through successfully. Admittedly, he'd gotten roughly ten hours sleep over the past three days, and been in four different countries in the last week alone, but had witnessed first hand that there were many others suffering worse hardships than he. One thing he would concede to, though grudgingly, was that it was good to be back in London, albeit more of a blackened and bruised city made twitchy by war than the one he'd left behind.

As Merlin had rather forcibly requested, he'd gone straight to bed for a few hours as soon as he'd made it back to UK HQ that afternoon. But, though exhausted, his body had grown unused to resting for long periods, and he'd woken again by nine o'clock in the evening, still bone tired but unable to sleep any more. So - deciding it counted as a part of Merlin's order to make the most of the brief leave he was granted - he washed and smartened himself up, and headed out into town. 

At first glance the streets were subdued, miles from the glittering parties and relative safety that had gathered steam in the twenties and lingered on through most of the thirties. But if you looked closely, tilted your head and listened just so, made a turn down the right street, you would find things just as lively as ever, more so even. It was reminiscent of the other war, the world seemingly devoid of young men bar the haunted ones wearing khaki or the blue of the hospitalised. Only this time, those left behind weren't quite so unaffected - the shattered windows and blown apart walls of a previously smart town house were proof of this - women stepping up to the mark to keep the country on its feet, the revels snatched after dark less timid and more defiant than the ones Harry remembered of the first time. 

He ended up at a dance club, lured in by the jolly music and enthusiastic chattering of people mostly much younger than himself. He'd had more than enough of sitting quietly and discussing tactics with stuffy and bleary-eyed old men who'd acquired their rank within the army through high birth rather than experience, and who had largely no idea what they were talking about. And that would be all that awaited him in any of the clubs he normally would have frequented. A little hypocritical perhaps, considering that Harry himself had been handed his position as Lieutenant in 1914 because of his bloodline and no other merits, but he felt he'd proved himself more than deserving of his place within the army and Kingsman since then.

So instead, he wound his way through the crush of dancing couples to the bar, ordered a glass of the piss poor excuse for whiskey they were selling, and made himself comfortable at an empty corner table. It was unexpectedly pleasant, soothing almost, to be doing nothing more strenuous than losing himself people watching. It wasn't something he did often. The evening's festivities weren't his sort of normality, not any more, but there was something rather charming and timeless about the girls and boys making eyes at each other across the room, dancing with a beautiful stranger they may never see again. Or one not so beautiful perhaps, but alive and warm and laughing, which was almost the same thing, some days. It was the sort of domesticity he'd forgotten existed, after months upon months of moving about Europe at Arthur's bidding, helping Kingsman do their bit to bring the whole sodding business to it's end that bit faster. His mood improved to such an extent that he might have even asked one of the ladies to dance, had he not been old enough to be a father to most of them. It also appeared that a large group of soldiers were spending a night of their leave in the club, so there were more than enough young, boisterous and handsome men, dashing in their khaki and their sense of adventure, for the girls to take their pick from. As cheering as that was, it left Harry rather redundant. He toyed with finding someone to spend the night with, though that would mean visiting a rather different club, and, good mood aside, he really wasn't certain he had the energy or inclination to find a man who wouldn't end up being more of a nuisance than a pleasure. 

So he stayed put, watched, and remembered what it was like to be twenty five years younger, caught up in a different war with the same criteria, and carefree enough to ask someone for a dance. Despite the odd enjoyment he took in watching proceedings, the dim club was stifling and the air thick with the heat of dancing bodies, and the bad whiskey combined with nothing to eat for longer than he could remember was starting to give him a headache. Standing up from the table - which was instantly taken over by a private and a girl in a pink dress - he shouldered his way back through the crowd mostly ignored, and let himself out into the cool night for a breath of air. And a cigarette.

He'd not been there long before his thoughts turned more to business than pleasure, a decades old habit he couldn't and didn't particularly care to break. Always planning ahead - the where next, and what if, and just in case - it was what kept Harry and the other Kingman alive, now more than ever. His thoughts were interrupted however, by the back door of the club swinging open hard enough to hit the brick wall, and a man stumbling through it.  
A man much like the rest, smart in his private's uniform but slightly lop-sided with drink, the haunted smile of a man who knew whatever reprieve he'd been granted was temporary. He paused and turned his head, looking up and down the narrow street as if searching for someone, before his eyes fell on Harry. His posture relaxed, visibly so even in the mirk of the dim street, and he sauntered over. It was dark, thick blackout curtains holding the light from clubs and houses inside, street lamps perpetually shut off, but the moon was almost full, silver and pale enough to slant down into the alleyway and catch the boy's face so perfectly, it might have been a direction from a motion picture. 

He was handsome, any fool could have seen that. A few inches shorter than Harry, stocky frame made leaner than suited him from army life, his jaw and cheekbones sharp with it. He had the scrubbed look of someone who'd only recently been able to have a decent wash, sandy hair in slight disarray from drink and dancing, face pinked from the exertion of it and full lips made darker by the night. He tilted his chin up in greeting as he approached, arching an eyebrow as he gestured to the cigarette glowing between Harry's fingers.

"Don't s'pose you got one going spare, guv?"

"Of course," Harry inclined his head, pulled his cigarette case smoothly from his pocket and held it out to him.

"Ta," the boy took one and slipped it between his lips, leaning forward as Harry held out his lighter, their heads dipped close together. Harry snuck a glance at him as he lit up, tired hollows under his eyes pronounced by the flickering orange of the flame, cheeks sucked in as he drew on the cigarette. His eyes might have been any colour in the dim night, and Harry was unreasonably irritated that he couldn't tell. 

"Ugh, fuck that's good," the young man tipped back his head and let the smoke drift from his mouth. Harry's eyes fell and lingered on the pale line of his throat. "One of my mates lost all his cigs in a bet, and he's been getting through mine like nobody's business."

"I see," said Harry evenly, oddly touched by the boy's generosity. Cigarettes were nothing short of a necessity in the army, one of a myriad of little things that could keep a man sane, and had Harry been in his place, he very much doubted he'd be so quick to share.

"Gary Unwin," the young man stuck out his hand, cigarette held between his teeth, "mates call me Eggsy."

"Any particular reason?" Harry enquired.

"Just a nickname innit," Eggsy shrugged, "every other bloke here's got one."

"True," Harry took his hand, both of their palms equally as calloused and rough with work and weaponry as the other's, each holding firm and steady, "Harry Hart." As soon as the words left his mouth, he berated himself for the slip up - he really should have introduced himself with his rank and surname only, anything else was far too familiar. For his occupation, as well as personal reasons, he would have advised himself against it.

Eggsy noticed it too, raising an eyebrow in question as he released Harry's hand. "You's an officer, right?" He looked Harry up and down, obviously studying his uniform for any clues as to his rank, though Harry found himself puffing up just a little under the scrutiny all the same. "With a name and a voice like that, you got to be Lieutenant, at least."

"Captain, actually." Every serving Kingsman knight was automatically granted an army rank of Captain, at least on paper for the duration, just to ensure the right doors were opened for them during war time missions. Though, Kingsman or not, Harry would have been an officer by birth right. An outdated and ineffective custom in more cases than it bared thinking about, but in Harry's case, he thought with no small amount of pride, thoroughly apt. 

"Shit," Eggsy blinked at him, amused and nowhere near as intimidated by Harry's rank as he probably should have been. "What the heck are you doing slummin' it in a place like this with us lot? Would've thought you could get in any place you wanted."

"I can, as it happens," Harry said, "which rather takes all the fun out of it."

"Explains why you stuck out like a sore thumb in there," Eggsy jerked his head towards the club, "I clocked it as soon as you came in, knew there was something off about you."

"Oh?" Harry was unsure if he should be impressed or made uneasy by that particular statement. He hadn't thought himself quite so conspicuous, and if this one boy had noticed something amiss, what was to say someone else hadn't? Kingsman weren't always so invisible as it suited them to believe. 

"Mhmm," Eggsy gave him a smug little smile, going so far as to take his lower lip between his teeth, and Harry began to suspect things weren't quite so one-sided as he'd initially guessed. "You ain't the type that usually shows up to a hole like this. No offence guv, but you don't look the sort to let your hair down much."

"Is that right?" Harry tilted his head, eyes narrowed as he assessed the young man who was intriguing him more by the moment with his shrewdness and flirtations. Did he dare?

"Yep. You shouldn't be like that though, what with all this going on," he waved his cigarette in gesture to the ruined city. "Live in the moment mate, that's what all this shite boils down to."

"Thank you for the advice," said Harry dryly, "what do you suggest then, Private Unwin?"

"I dunno..." he paused, searching for an example. "Do you ever even go dancing - I mean the fun sort, like that lot in there - or are you too posh for that?"

"I do," Harry took a last slow drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the floor, putting it out with a twist under his boot. "I happen to be rather good at it, actually." He let the smoke fall gently from between his lips, watched the boy watch him. 

"I bet you are," Eggsy said with a lazy smile, the flick of his eyes over Harry's body far less subtle this time. "I bet you's good at all sorts, _Captain."_

"So I'm told," said Harry carefully, tilting his shoulders back and sliding a hand into his pocket, casually angling his body towards Eggsy in a way that could be interpreted as an invitation, if he so chose. But it was slight enough that the boy could ignore it if he wished - Harry'd been wrong about this sort of thing before, regrettably. 

The boy's smile changed from a charming attempt at sultry to downright eager as he shifted forward, further into Harry's space, hips canted purposefully towards him. Harry swallowed, took a deep breath through his nose. "Wouldn't mind finding that out for myself," Eggsy said, voice low and rough, breath hot on Harry's ear. He smelt of the cheap booze and Harry's expensive cigarettes, soap and sweat.

 _Good grief._ He felt Eggsy's hand curl around his forearm, fingers firm through the sleeve of his greatcoat, and it vaguely crossed Harry's mind that if they were to do this, they'd better relocate before they were discovered. It was hardly a private setting, and Harry didn't much fancy get slapped with indecency charges for Kingsman to pay their way out of. Again. He opened his mouth to reply, when he heard someone clear their throat. Eggsy broke the contact and flinched away from him, Harry already working out the best way to hit both Eggsy and the intruder with amnesia darts as he turned to face whoever it was.

But his hand fell away from the dial on his watch when Merlin materialised from the shadows, as he was somehow always able to do, usually at the most inopportune of moments.

"Merlin," he greeted his friend stiffly, both relieved it was him rather than anybody else, and thoroughly irritated that anyone was intruding at all.

"Galahad," he nodded in greeting, eyebrows lifting in amusement. "I hate to interrupt," his eyes flicked over to Eggsy, "I know I said you needed a break, but Bedivere has royally fucked things up in Poland, and we need you to take care of it."

"Right. And you couldn't have let me know in a slightly more covert manner?"

"You left your glasses behind."

"Ah."

"What the fuck is going on?" Eggsy spoke up from where he stood against the wall, a little braver now Harry had made it clear Merlin posed no threat, but still thrumming with tension and ready to bolt any second. 

"Duty calls, I'm afraid," Harry said, more sorry about it than he cared to admit. "But it was delightful to meet you, Eggsy. I apologise for cutting things short." It was the most sincere apology he'd given anyone for a long while.

"Yeah, I - " Eggsy's attention was still flicking between Harry and Merlin in suspicion, "thanks for the cig."

"Don't mention it."

"Was nice to meet you too," Eggsy recovered enough to tip Harry a smile and a wink. "See you around, yeah?"

"Goodnight," Harry inclined his head, ignoring the soft, unimpressed snort Merlin gave him for it. The two of them turned to walk swiftly and stealthily back in the direction of HQ, boots loud on the cobbles, leaving Eggsy alone and watching them move further away through the shifting gloom. 

So they parted ways, and Harry found himself hoping, but certainly not expecting, to see the boy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert, they do see each other again.  
> This was all very setting the scene, more things will happen next chapter, bear with me. Perhaps things that bump up the rating, if all goes to plan.  
> Tumblr - eatingmoonflowers


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was writing this on a slow day at work, and who should start playing on the radio but Vera Lynn. She knows. This chapter got unexpectedly long and fluffy, and I think just about scrapes into an E rating, whoops.

Eggsy's platoon was due to leave England again the day after tomorrow. But instead of everyone being left to get on with the actual, practical things that needed doing before they left, the men had all spent the morning madly tidying up themselves and their uniforms, because some fancy-arse officer a lot higher up the food chain had decided to grace them with an inspection before they went. Colonel King, maybe, or perhaps it was Major... Eggsy couldn't've said for sure, his mind was on other things. Or one thing, if he was being honest with himself. One Harry Hart. He hadn't stopped thinking about the odd Captain he'd followed out of the bar last week, and their almost night together. Eggsy wasn't stupid though - that man was more than just a Captain, he'd bet his left ball on it. There was the unfamiliar medal he'd had on his greatcoat, for starters, the sudden appearance of his strange friend, and how quickly he'd had to leave... nah, something didn't add up. 

"Come on, Eggy," Charlie jolted him back to the present, slapping him on the shoulder and grinning, "you can daydream about your lady love to your heart's content later, but for now, get your sorry arse in line like everybody else, or it's me who'll get it in the neck."

"Yes sir," Eggsy rolled his eyes as Charlie bustled off, but shuffled forward to find his place in the line all the same.

Charlie, or Lieutenant Hesketh he supposed - the two of them had formed an odd, slightly begrudging friendship, rank aside - had been teasing him about his lack of focus all week, saying he must have found some equally plebby girl to warm his bed while they were on leave. He almost wanted to tell him the truth, just to see the expression on his face. Well, it gave him something to think about while they were waiting, at least.

The man Eggsy's platoon had been waiting on for the past hour eventually deigned to arrive, looking sour and thoroughly bored, just like every other army hooray they were put on display for who probably couldn't care less about the men lined up in front of them. The pink and gold medal pinned to his uniform looked familiar, even from a distance, but he couldn't think where he'd seen it before until he caught sight of the man standing to the side of him.

Harry.

Shit. Eggsy fought to remain standing to attention and not to gape at him in shock. The man himself had told him he was a Captain, and yeah he'd had an inkling that Harry was something a bit special, but _hell._ Seemed like he was a lot more of a big deal than Eggsy'd thought. Through the entire inspection, Eggsy struggled against a bit of an internal crisis - should he ignore Harry altogether, keep his eyes fixed to the front as ordered and pretend he'd never seen him before? Probably the most sensible option, as it seemed the bloke was much more important than he'd let on, and Eggsy had sodding _thrown_ himself at him... Harry easily could've had him dishonourably discharged or worse for it if he fancied, and it was probably best if Eggsy didn't remind him of that. But then, Eggsy never had been one to back down and scurry away with his tail between his legs - he stood his ground and looked danger in the eye (unless it was his prick of a stepfather or one of his dogs, in which case he would back down eventually if only for the sake of his mother.) So he made the compromise of carefully maintaining his position but following Harry with his eyes, keeping him in his peripheral vision as he trailed behind Colonel King through the lines of men. Harry didn't look at him. 

Half an hour later, King had long since gone, and Eggsy still wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not. What had he expected to happen, really? Anything more than a glance of recognition would have been idiotic, yet Eggsy hadn't even got that, and it rankled. But then, what was he to Harry, really? Nothing more than some poor private like any other who'd tried to pick him up in a dingy alley behind a club. Probably didn't want it getting back to his boss, Eggsy thought sourly, scowling down at his boots and blocking out the bustle of activity around the barracks. He should probably have found something useful to do other than sulking, or Hesketh would give him an earful. 

"My my, you look rather thunderous," said a familiar voice, and oh _bollocks,_ "perhaps not so pleased to see me again as I'd hoped."

Eggsy looked up sharply, all of his ire melting away in the face of the small but hopeful smile Harry was looking at him with. He looked even better in the daylight, eyes bright and not a hair out of place, no longer dulled by the grimy darkness of the club. He was handsome, the sort of bloke that could've walked right out of the pages of a romance novel. He'd make a fucking excellent recruitment poster. "Alright Harry," he said when he found his voice, fighting the urge to step closer into his space - they were surrounded by the fifty other blokes in his platoon and then some, for fuck's sake. "Didn't think you'd seen me."

"Of course I did," Harry sniffed, as though offended by the very idea, "how could I possibly miss you, Eggsy?"

"I - " Eggsy felt his face get a little warm despite himself. "Even if you had spotted me, I didn't think you'd be all that keen to chat."

"What on earth would make you think that?" Harry said softly, amused. 

Eggsy shrugged and held his head up higher, suddenly defensive, a feeling that was quick to emerge when he felt in danger of getting hurt. He was ever wary of setting his hopes too high - aim low and you won't be disappointed later on, and all that. "I ain't nothing special, some private from south of the river. Cannon fodder, yeah? Not good enough for the likes of you, I'm sure." Well, good for nothing more than a convenient shag, no doubt.

"Eggsy my dear boy," Harry said patiently, "if anyone else had dared speak so low of you, I would have struck them. Since hitting you might prove somewhat detrimental to my intentions, I must settle for asking you nicely not to do so again."

Eggsy laughed in surprise, some of the tension dropping from where it lay tight across his shoulders. "Alright fine, but only 'cause you asked so nice, yeah?" He shook his head, eye catching on the medal pinned to Harry's chest. "I knew you was an officer," he jerked his chin at the little circle of pink and gold, "but this takes the piss. What are you doin' here with that - " he checked himself before he called the sour old bastard who'd come to inspect them just that, "with Colonel King."

"Ah," Harry looked down at the medal, touched it with the tip of his index finger. "I'm rather closely connected to the King family. A ceremonial thing, more than anything else - I spend more of my time in the field than behind a desk, if that's what you're asking."

"Good," said Eggsy, "there's more than enough posh pencil pushers, and we need all the help we can get." He meant it. As attracted to Harry as he was, if the bloke did nothing but hide behind his desk and send other men to do the dirty work, he'd find it hard to respect him. 

"Well said," Harry smiled, sounding an odd mix of proud and pleasantly surprised. "Though there are exceptions. Some 'posh pencil pushers,' as you put it, are worth their weight in gold. You met Merlin, of course? Saved my bacon more times than I can count, and all from behind his desk."

Eggsy snorted, "yeah I remember him. But all he proved to me was how good he was at ruining the plans I had for the evening." He shot Harry a meaningful look, ran his eye quickly up and down his uniform, and hoped to God he hadn't been mistaken about Harry's interest in him.

Harry blinked. "Actually, that's what I wished to talked to you about."

"Is that right?" he said carefully. 

"Yes. I know you're heading back overseas the day after tomorrow so you've a lot on your plate. But if you're not otherwise engaged, I wondered if you might grant me the pleasure of your company this evening." 

Eggsy'd never been asked out in such a polite yet wordy and round-about way before. All he usually got was one of two one word questions - "Drink?" or "Dance?" - followed by a wink or a raised eyebrow, and that was that. He licked his lips, a nervous habit, but pleased with himself all the same when Harry's eyes followed the dart of his tongue. "I might."

"If you could fit me in to your busy schedule of course," said Harry dryly, only a small twitch of his lip belying his amusement. 

"Well I'm a busy bloke, ain't I," Eggsy grinned at him. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm afraid Colonel King will no doubt be keeping me busy too late for dinner," Harry said, as though the man had just shot his dog and slapped his mother, "but I thought we might go for a drink or two, dancing maybe, if you'd like to."

"Alright," Eggsy said, not all that bothered about hiding his enthusiasm any longer because yes. "Nine o'clock then, where we met last time. Don't be late."

~

Harry was late. Almost half an hour late actually, and Eggsy was all set to give him a half-joking bollocking for it, until he caught sight of Harry's face. "Alright Harry?" he said cautiously, motioned to the bird behind the bar for another drink - Harry looked like he needed it.

"I'm sorry I'm so terribly late," he said as he took the stool next to Eggsy's, back straight and polite to a fault, even though his smile was a bit tight and a frown still creased his forehead, "something unexpected happened at the office and I - well, I'm going to Japan in the morning."

"Fuck," Eggsy said, because it seemed the most appropriate response. "Sounds pretty serious guv."

"It is," Harry knocked back most of the whiskey as soon as the barmaid handed it to him, and still made it look somehow elegant.

"Look we don't have to - we can call it a night if you want." Disappointment was already creeping in as Eggsy's plans for the evening began to disintegrate, but if Harry really had to leave, then what right did Eggsy have to keep him from going? 

"Good heavens no," said Harry, looking offended by the very idea, "our first meeting was cut short by my work, and I've no intention of letting it interfere with this one."

"I was hopin' you'd say that," Eggsy smiled, tense hold of his body unfurling with relief, and polished off his drink.

~

"So what did you do then?" Eggsy asked later on, when they were each on their third drink and Harry looked less like he wanted to lamp someone in the face, "before all this?"

"I was a tailor," Harry answered without hesitation. "Still am, I suppose."

"Really? No offence guv but I didn't have you down for a bloke who needs to work." Harry was easily well-moneyed and well-titled enough to be able to sit around and do bugger all while the money rolled in from seemingly nowhere, that much was obvious. But honestly, Eggsy couldn't really imagine him doing that, either.

"In truth, I don't need to," Harry said flatly, a simple state of fact rather than bragging, "I choose to. A great deal more interesting than that alternative, I'm sure you'll agree. Yourself?"

"I - " Eggsy hesitated, not sure how much of his dismal life he wanted Harry to know about. On paper, he had no job at all. He was ashamed of it, but he'd never been given much of a choice. Honestly, volunteering for the army had been one of the best things he'd ever done - he felt useful, even though he knew he was just one more private in a sea of millions, fallen victim to the colourful posters telling everyone to do their bit. "I worked for my stepdad," he said eventually, "bit of buying and selling and that."

"I see," said Harry. He probably did. Eggsy felt his ears go hot, and groped about for a change of subject.

"You err, got any family?"

"No," Harry said shortly. "Do you?"

Eggsy was curious as to why Harry didn't elaborate on his family situation, but knew better than to press it - he'd seen enough blokes go tight-lipped when asked about their family that he knew what it meant. "Yeah. Mum and a little stepsister. With any luck my stepdad won't come home from France." He wasn't sure if he really meant that, deep down, though the happiness he'd felt when he'd visited his mother and she hadn't had any bruises on her face was something he could get used to. 

"And your father, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Nah it's alright," Harry was taking an odd amount of interest, but Eggsy felt more comfortable sharing the answers with him than he might have done with a lot of others. Perhaps because he felt like Harry actually wanted to hear what he had to say, rather than sympathetically nodding along. "He's dead. Got it in the first one, a month or two after I was born."

"I'm sorry."

Eggsy shrugged. "I never knew him."

Over Harry's shoulder, he saw a group of girls clustered around a table, giggling and nudging each other and flicking coy, tipsy glances at them, all bright lipstick and meticulously patched up dresses. He gave them a wink without a second thought, which led to more giggling and whispers, as Harry turned his head slightly to see what had caught his attention.

"Go and talk to them, if you wish," he said neutrally.

"Nah," Eggsy looked back to Harry, letting his lip curl into a smirk, "I'd rather stay with you, thanks."

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but one of the girls had appeared behind him. "Hello," she said, eyes falling briefly on Harry before going back to Eggsy, "sorry to interrupt, but I wondered if you'd like to dance?" She smiled down at him prettily, hopeful, and Eggsy found himself looking to Harry as if for permission. For a split second, Harry looked surprised, in his well-bred, muted way, before he smiled genially and waved the two of them away.

"Go and dance with this lovely young lady, Eggsy. I shall still be here when you get back."

"Well, you heard the man," Eggsy stood and offered the girl his arm. "I'm Eggsy."

"Alice," she took it, and they moved into the crush of dancing couples. She was a nice girl; smelt like rosewater and make up, cigarette smoke and cheap gin combining to mostly cover up the bitter tang of munitions factory fumes. She danced well, dark hair bouncing and the curve of her waist soft under his hand. A couple of weeks ago, he might have tried for a snog, maybe get into her knickers, in some dark corner or other. But tonight... Every time he span her around, his eyes met with Harry's as he looked on, and he found himself smiling like a fool and having to ask Alice to repeat the last thing she'd said. He knew then, with the inevitable clarity that seemed to accompany such situations, that that night it would have to be Harry or nothing at all. 

The song ended, and Alice thanked him before swishing off back to her table of friends, all hiding smiles behind their drinks. Harry however, was smiling openly when Eggsy sat down next to him again. 

"You're rather good at that."

"I know," Eggsy said, hesitated for a fraction of a moment. "I'd rather dance with you though."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and got them both another drink.

~

"Eggsy, would you mind awfully if we went stepped outside?" Harry winced as the familiar opening bars of the next song started to play, his face a little pink but otherwise showing no signs of having spent the last two hours knocking back whiskey. "I can't stand Vera Lynn."

"Ain't it against the law not to like Vera Lynn?" Eggsy smirked but got to his feet anyway, a bit more tipsy than he was willing to admit. Harry caught him by the elbow to steady him.

"Prison would be a small price to pay," said Harry dryly as they wove their way through the other patrons to the door.

"So where did you want to go now?" Eggsy said when they'd stepped into the chilly quiet of the dark street, noise and light of the city muffled behind blackout curtains and carefully closed doors.

"Entirely up to you Eggsy," Harry said, pulling a pair of gloves from his pocket. "Another club, if you wish. I - there's a place I know where we could dance properly, if you'd like to."

Eggsy thought about it for a moment. Resting his head on Harry's shoulder, rocking slowly together with Harry's hand settled on his hip like he belonged there, close enough to feel Harry's breath on his neck. But as wonderful as it would be... "That sounds proper nice Harry, really," he said.

"But?"

"But, as much as I'd like to dance with you, there's somethin' else I want to do more."

"Ah."

In some dark part at the back of his mind where his self worth was at it's lowest, Eggsy feared Harry might turn him down. Say it was all some sort of misunderstanding, and he'd just been looking for a bloke to share a drink or two with before it all kicked off again. But those fears were put firmly to rest as Harry caught his gaze and held it, eyes dark and warm and reflecting the same mess of want and affection and desperation that Eggsy knew was written all over his own face. 

"In that case..." Harry flicked out his hand in a way slightly loose and dismissive, and a taxi appeared from the shadows as if he'd summoned it, lights switched off and engine humming low. It was bloody hard and even more expensive to get a taxi at the best of times at the moment, never mind so late at night, but Eggsy found it hard to care when Harry _held open the ruddy door for him._

"Thanks," he said, just about managing to keep his balance as he clambered in.

"You're welcome."

Eggsy had no idea which way the taxi was headed; he was more preoccupied by the line of Harry's leg snug against his own where they sat next to each other in the back, warm through the thick khaki. He was hard pressed not to climb into Harry's lap and be done with it, steal the kiss he'd been wanting ever since he'd first asked him for a spare cigarette. If the tight clench of Harry's jaw was anything to go by, he was experiencing something similar. Eggsy swallowed and tried not to breathe in the sharp, clean smell of soap and whiskey and gun metal.  
The taxi came to a stop outside a tailor's shop of all places - Savile bloody Row no less - gilded lettering on the windows fragmented and partially covered by the tape criss-crossed over them to stop the glass shattering everywhere should they be hit. It was the sort of posh place he'd never dream of daring to set foot in under normal circumstances, and yet he found himself longing to see it in all it's glory, without the tape on the windows and sandbags piled against the walls, the thick blackout curtains concealing the no doubt sickeningly expensive window display, the interior all gilt and dark wood.

"I told you I was a tailor," said Harry in answer to Eggsy confused frown.

"Yeah, but I wasn't expectin' you to take me to your work for... this."

Harry laughed softly, and started up the steps to the shop. "Well, I'm afraid my townhouse had suffered some damage, and we could hardly go back to your barracks. Come on."

Eggsy dashed up the steps, catching up just as Harry unlocked the door. He led them through the thick darkness of the shop, mannequins and hulking stacks and bolts of fabric slightly menacing in the gloom of the blackout. Harry's hand caught hold of his, glove rough in his sweaty palm, and he felt a little more at ease. With a surefootedness that suggested he'd made the journey any number of times, Harry stepped onto the a grand, sweeping staircase at the rear of the shop, Eggsy gripping the bannister when he stumbled in the unfamiliar layout. Harry's hold on his hand tightened. It was a little disorientating, when they reached the top of the stairs and Harry led him down a series of corridors, each the same as the last with their darks walls and oil paintings, thick carpet underfoot muffling their hurried footsteps. It was on the tip of Eggsy's tongue to ask why there needed to be so many rooms at the back of a tailor's shop, when Harry drew to a stop in front of a door much like all the others.

"In here, if you would."

Eggsy stepped cautiously through the door and into a bedroom. A more expensively decorated bedroom than any he'd ever set foot in before, but a bedroom all the same. There were more portraits and ornaments and trinkets it was too dark for Eggsy to see properly, a big settee with a blanket draped over it that looked like it got slept on more often than the untouched bed did. The door clicked shut behind them, a dim lamp flickered on, and Eggsy stopped his studying of the room in favour of studying Harry. He cut a dashing figure, tall and proud in his uniform amongst the opulence of the room, and under any other circumstances Eggsy might've just gotten to his knees right there on the patterned rug and had at it. But he felt like Harry wanted more than that, and Eggsy wanted to give it to him. 

"Eggsy?"

"Mm?"

"May I kiss you?"

If Eggsy had been a different man, he might've come up with something witty and elegant to say in return, but he wasn't, and the best he could come up on such short notice was, "I thought you'd never fucking ask."

Fortunately, Harry seemed more than happy with that response. He closed the gap between them, ran the tips of his gloved fingers gently over Eggsy's jaw and the thin skin of his neck, he'd be able to feel Eggsy's fluttering pulse and the way he swallowed to combat his suddenly dry throat. Harry drew him in, kissed him, and fuck, Eggsy wished he was a poet, because if there ever was a kiss that deserved to be immortalised in poetry, it was that one.

Pulling back ever so slightly, Harry kissed Eggsy's temple as they caught their breath. "Just lovely."

Oh. Oh shite. There was something in the way Harry said it, fondness and approval, that made his breath stutter and the growing arousal in his belly lurch ever higher, and he dragged Harry down into another, more forceful kiss before he could think too hard on it.  
Had it been any other bloke in any other circumstance, Eggsy very much doubted they would've even bothered undressing - just whipped out the parts they needed and be done with it. But there, and with Harry, it seemed a waste not to make the most of it. They undressed, Harry murmuring praise and endearments as each new part of Eggsy was uncovered, so softly that Eggsy wasn't even certain he was aware he was doing it. 

"You are utterly perfect," Harry said as Eggsy stepped out of his underwear, unashamedly looking him over.

"Fuck, Harry," Eggsy's voice didn't sound like his own, his face hot from the drink and the sweet words and the way Harry refused to take his eyes off him for a moment.

Saying nothing more but eyeing him in a way Eggsy was fairly sure counted as hungry, Harry nudged him backwards so he could ease himself down onto the bed. The softest, cleanest bed Eggsy'd lain on in... well ever, actually. It didn't smell like Harry, just the cleanish, dusty smell of sheets that hadn't been slept in for a while. Looked like Eggsy was right about him preferring to sleep on the settee. 

"Beautiful," Harry said as he leant over him, pressing soft kisses along his jaw. Eggsy was thankful he'd been able to have a decent wash and shave that afternoon. "You are simply exquisite." Harry's quiet endearments thrummed along Eggsy's skin, made him feel desperate and hopeless and lovely all at once. He'd been called pretty before, by other army blokes he'd bunked up with while in France in a half-arsed attempt for them both to feel less awful, but it hadn't made him feel anything in particular. It was just a word. But this though... this was different. 

"You like it when I praise you, don't you?" said Harry, having noticed his squirming, in the smug sort of way that suggested he wasn't really expecting an answer. 

"Looks like it," Eggsy said gruffly, rather more keen to act on it than analyse it for the moment, thanks.

"Hm," Harry thumbed at his nipple, "interesting."

"Yeah, yeah," Eggsy arched up into the touch, "it's new to me too, just get on with it yeah?"

Harry's huff of laughter was warm on his neck. "So romantic," he pushed Eggsy's hair back from his face, drew him into a kiss so tender and covetous that Eggy was left wondering what an earth he could've done to deserve it. "As much as I would love to do this properly," Harry said, when they separated "I really don't think I've the patience."

"Now who's the romantic," Eggsy muttered against Harry's smile. 

Harry held his fingers to Eggsy's lips in silent question before he obeyed the unspoken request, taking them into his mouth. He sucked lightly, hearing himself groan around Harry's fingers when he considered the possibility of Harry's cock being in their place. 

"Good boy," Harry said quietly, distracted almost, when Eggsy stopped sucking to press wet kisses over his fingers, eyes flicking up to Harry's with intent, "you are ever so good for me." Another stirring jolt of arousal burned low in Eggsy's belly at the praise, the mental list of what he wouldn't do to hear Harry speak to him like that again growing shorter by the minute. Harry gently drew his hand away from Eggsy's lips, reached down to take hold of his cock with spit-slick fingers, Eggsy's eyes falling shut at the warm wet touch as Harry stroked him off.

"Oh God..."

"Yes, let me hear you," Harry bent to press a damp kiss just under his ear, "let me hear you come undone, you gorgeous creature."

"Fuck, Harry!" Eggsy swore when Harry took his own cock into his grip too, smearing spit and precome over them both as they slid together, and good God it was delicious. He drew his leg out from under Harry's weight to hook it around his middle instead, spreading his legs wider so Harry could fit comfortably between them, get closer still. His thigh ached within seconds, but fuck it, he needed more. 

"That's it," Harry's hand that wasn't holding them together moved lower to nudge behind his balls, rubbing a slick finger slowly over his arse. "Come for me, darling," Harry breathed hot over Eggsy's skin as he twisted his hand just so over his cock, and _fuck,_ that was Eggsy done. Through the rolling shudders of his own finish, he just about registered Harry coming too, with a gasp of his name and the hot wet rush between their bodies as he curled himself over Eggsy to kiss messy and desperate at his mouth. 

~

When Eggsy woke, pleasantly aching and not so pleasantly sticky, Harry was already up and about and had nearly finished dressing. A sight he was sorry to have missed, come to think of it - watching the bloke button himself up again would've been almost as good as unbuttoning him. He was done up as sodding impeccably as ever, every fold of his uniform knife sharp and each button and buckle so bloody bright Eggsy had to squint when he looked at it. Harry's eyes met his in the mirror while he was adjusting the position of his tie.

"Good morning Eggsy," he said, not breaking the eye contact of their reflections.

"It is," Eggsy agreed, stretching out where he lay on his front, purposefully curving his back where he knew the sheet was barely covering his arse, "be better if you was still in 'ere with me though."

"I don't doubt it," said Harry with a grin, before finally turning around to look at Eggsy properly. "As lovely as ever, dear boy."

Unsure what to make of Harry's near constant flow of casual but sincere compliments - it definitely wasn't something he was used to - Eggsy smiled and half-buried his warm face in the crook of his elbow. "Thanks."

"You're most welcome," Harry said, dropping smoothly to one knee by the side of the bed, his face level with Eggsy's. How the bloody hell he'd managed to get out of bed, get dressed, and have a sodding shave without Eggsy waking, he had no idea. He didn't believe in perfection, but Harry Hart was pretty bloody close. Harry ducked forward to kiss him, and Eggsy let him, although he knew beyond a doubt his mouth would taste like shite.

"I'm sorry to send you away so soon," Harry said when they broke apart, his gloved palm light on Eggsy's cheek.

Eggsy shrugged his shoulders, or as best he could while still lying on his front at any rate. "It ain't your fault. Not like any of us could stop this, is it."

"Well no," Harry dipped his head in agreement, "but that doesn't mean I'm not sorry for it."

"It's like you're straight out of the flicks sometimes, Harry Hart," Eggsy said, "you couldn't be more perfect if somebody'd made you up." 

"If either one of us accurately portrays perfection my darling, I'm afraid it's you. It couldn't be further form the truth in my case, I'm afraid."

"Harry," Eggsy brought his hand up to lace his fingers with Harry's. It was bloody ridiculous really, they'd only met twice, but watching the man walk away from him was just plain awful. "I want you to know - "

He was cut off when the door opened, the bloke Harry worked with, 'Merlin,' marching in, clipboard firmly in hand. Eggsy tensed and clutched at the blanket, unsure if he knew about Harry's tastes in bed partners or not, and whether he'd need to scarper before they got into trouble. He assumed he was safe though, when the man barely glanced up from the sodding clipboard.

"Galahad," he frowned at something on the board, crossed it out, "time to go."

"Galahad?" said Eggsy sleepily when he realised they weren't going to get arrested, rapidly moving from anxious to irritated that this Merlin bloke had interrupted them again. He'd called Harry that before as well...

"A nickname, of sorts," Harry said absently, too busy giving Merlin a dirty look to give him a proper answer. "You said it yourself, every other soldier ends up with one."

"Right. Well good luck then, I s'pose," Eggsy said, letting go of Harry's hand, "in Japan."

"You told him where you're going?" Merlin said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Jesus Christ, Harry, does the word discretion mean nothing to you?"

"Thank you, Eggsy," Harry said, "take care of yourself. Merlin here will ensure you get back to your barracks," Harry said, though the man himself looked less than pleased about it. Apparently as an afterthought, he unpinned the pink and gold medal from his chest. "And take care of this for me as well, if you would. Call it a promise of sorts." He pressed the medal into Eggsy's palm, metal warmed from where he'd been holding it.

"Of all the foolish and overdramatic gestures..." Merlin muttered to no one in particular.

"Won't you get in trouble for not having it?" Eggsy said, running his finger around the edge of the medal.

Merlin snorted. Harry ignored him. "I've done worse."

He lifted his hand to cup Eggsy's cheek again, still sleep warm, kissing him soft but long, a drawn out press of lips. Eggsy didn't want him to stop. Harry stood, turning to walk from the room without looking back, Merlin at his heels. So Eggsy was left alone, left to mourn the fact that they'd had barely any time together before the very absurdity that had thrown them together to begin with drew them apart again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd give you a summary of what's going to happen next chapter, but I'm not quite sure yet. But I can tell you that Roxy (and her poodle) will finally be making an appearance ayyy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand the incredibly vague geography continues.  
> Shout out to the three people that are still reading this.

The third time that Harry and Eggsy met, it was by design. Though regrettably, the purpose for which Harry sought him out was rather more serious than their previous engagement. Kingsman staff were getting a bit thin on the ground, what with having been at war for such a length of time and the inevitable casualties that came with it. The Knights themselves weren't spread so thin as to cause alarm, though they hadn't yet had the time to find a suitable replacement for Gawain and Bedivere was still out of action after the nightmare in Poland. There was no time for the usual recruitment and trial process that traditionally took months, when every day was vital and every hand already busy, and so unavailable to train new recruits. But the time had come for them to bulk up their general staff somewhat, or they'd be left severely low in numbers. There were countless vital agents who weren't Knights - drivers, messengers, those in Merlin's division - and the most efficient way of finding replacements in wartime was to pull men who'd already proven themselves to some degree straight from the army ranks. And of course, there was one soldier in particular who Harry had got Merlin to gather information on as soon as the suggestion had been made. 

Fortunately for Harry, Chester was keen to recruit Lieutenant Hesketh, the boy being related to him in some obscure way that Harry couldn't care less about, which gave him a reason to pay Eggsy's platoon a visit without his intentions being too obvious. Hesketh seemed competent enough from the file Harry had read, but he was already pushed to second place in Harry's mind purely because he was not Eggsy. Highly unprofessional of him of course, but every man had his weaknesses. He already found himself coveting the idea of the two of them working side by side. Harry was too practical a man to let himself get his hopes up about many things, but in this case it was far too late to do anything about it. And from what he knew of Eggsy, recruiting him to Kingsman would be no trouble at all. 

He took Lieutenant Morton along with him, as she proved a better incentive for getting the men to perform their best than much else did, sadly. That and her brutally shooting down their lewd propositions was rather beautiful to watch. She wasn't a Knight, but had proved her worth a hundred times over as a getaway driver, pilot, wrangling information out of the right people, any number of things. He was tempted to propose her for Gawain's empty positon, if he wasn't certain Chester would never allow it. Her standard poodle, Pankhurst, trotted obediently to heel as they made their way across the field to the platoon under Lieutenant Hesketh.

"Sir," Hesketh stood to attention when they approached, the line of men before him straightening up in the presence of authority, albeit grudgingly in some cases. Unsurprisingly, they perked up a bit when they noticed Roxanne, make-up sharp and skirt pressed neatly over her long legs. Harry liked to think he had enough control over himself to not perk up quite so obviously when he saw Eggsy, standing tall in the second row, gorgeous as ever despite the wear and tear of the army, and holding back a smile. He hadn't seen him in person for two months now, since their night on leave in London, and to see him again after weeks of having nothing but the small photograph in Eggsy's file and the mere memory of him was uplifting. A pity really, that there was work to be done, and he couldn't simply bundle the two of them behind a closed door, breathe him in and relearn him.

"I am Captain Hart, and this is Lieutenant Morton," Harry forced himself to look away from Eggsy as he introduced himself and Roxanne to the assembled men. "We are here for a recruitment of sorts. Word is that you're some of the finest England has to offer, and we're here to test that claim. You are to be put through a series of tasks, both physical and mental, and those of you who fare the best will be accompanying us back to England for further training and possible promotion." Granted, it wasn't much of an explanation, but it would compromise their security to go into any more detail about Kingsman in front of such a crowd. He could only assume they'd be desperate enough to escape their current situation to take his word for it. "Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," the troops said as one. 

"Very good," Harrys said with a nod of approval. "Since I see no sense in wasting precious time, let's get to it." 

Harry kept a keen eye on them all as they were put through their paces, exchanging the odd wince or impressed glance with Roxanne as they watched. She made notes for Merlin's benefit - the man liked numbers, they were more dependable than people - neatly taking down any particularly impressive results that might interest him. A few of the men tried to strike up a conversation with her as they waited their turn, and though Harry couldn't hear what they were saying from his position across the field, her thoroughly bored expression and the dejected look of each rebuffed suitor said it all. Until it came to Eggsy, that was. He said something to Roxanne that made her blink in surprise, before smiling widely and nodding in agreement. Before Harry had time to wonder at what on earth he could have said to gain her approval so quickly, the boy dropped to his knees and made a fuss over Pankhurst, stroking his head and ruffling behind his ears until the dog's tail was wagging in delight. The fact that Eggsy looked equally pleased about it got Harry absently wondering what puppy Eggsy would pick, if he were ever put through the trails. Not that he was up for a Knight position this time around, but then Roxanne wasn't knighted, and she'd somehow managed to wrangle one into her possession. Something to do with the combined factors of having Percival for an uncle and Merlin having a soft spot for the gir, perhaps. Harry hadn't previously known Merlin was capable of soft spots. 

With the tests completed, the men milled about as Harry and Roxanne looked over the scores, picking out the ten or so men who showed Kingsman potential. They didn't have the luxury of time to waste; they'd inform the men straight away and leave for UK HQ the following morning to get them situated and put to work. Unsurprisingly, there was one name Harry had very much hoped would be on said list, and his scores on the tests had only fuelled his certainty that he'd been right about him.

"That Lieutenant Morton's something special, ain't she?" Eggsy said as Harry approached, face flushed and eyes still bright from the exertion of the tests. Harry had previously thought of them as green, but they shifted to become almost blue when the sun hit him just so. He cursed the presence of every other man on the field - if they weren't there, he could have kissed him. 

"Oh good grief, not you too," he said, only half joking, eyes absently following the thick lines of Eggsy's arms as he stretched them out after the exercise.

"Nah," Eggsy shook his head. "As lovely as she is, I got my eye on someone else," he shrugged theatrically, eyes flicking quickly over Harry in a less than subtle manner. 

As much as Harry would have liked to indulge in a spot of thinly veiled flirting with his charming boy, there was an important offer he was impatient to make. "Eggsy, I'm sure it'll come as no surprise to you to hear that you fared the best in our little tests here this afternoon."

"Not really, nah," he smirked and puffed up a little, and Harry was fairly certain he shouldn't have found it so endearing.

"Quite. In that case, I have an offer to make you."

Eggsy seemed to wilt a little, breath leaving his body in a sad little huff. "You want me to go back to Blighty, don't you?"

"I - " Harry hesitated, taken aback by his lack of enthusiasm. "Well, yes. Your results were the best of the lot, and you'd make a highly valuable addition to our ranks, Eggsy." There were other reasons he wanted Eggsy back in England of course, but they were considerably more selfish and presumably went without saying. "But you don't sound awfully pleased about it."

"That's 'cause I'm not going."

"I beg your pardon?" He must have misheard.

"I can't." Eggsy's voice was small.

"Why on earth not?" Harry bit out, suddenly and indignantly angry to have all his hopes for the boy so easily dashed.

"I can't leave the others," Eggsy said imploringly, mouth downturned in dejection, looking every bit as upset about it as Harry felt. "They're my mates, y'know? Been through all of it together, we have, and I can't just chuck 'em aside for a fancy job offer. Please Harry, you've been in the army for years, you've got to understand that."

"Yes," Harry felt his anger ebb away at Eggsy's sincere declaration, because he did understand. There wasn't a single man he would've left behind if he could help it in the first war, and now, with Kingsman, he would willingly lay down his life for any one of them if called upon. Eggsy's decision was no different, but it still felt horribly like a rejection. "Yes, I do." 

"Good," said Eggsy quietly, mouth twitching up into a brief and short-lived smile. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"I can't pretend I'm not disappointed we won't be working together," Harry said, aware he sounded far more haughty about it than he intended to, "but if your mind's made up, I'll say no more about it."

"I 'preciate that guv," Eggsy bit at his lip, "I mean it. But I just don't want you to think it was an easy choice, yeah? I'd love to leave this shit hole and come with you Harry, more than anything. But," he cast a look over his shoulder to where presumably two of his friends were sprawled on the grass, smoking and dealing out a battered pack of cards between them, "they need me more than you do."

 _I'm not so sure I agree,_ Harry thought, before squashing down the selfish notion once again, and summoning up a smile for him. "I understand, Eggsy. It's an admirable decision, many wouldn't have made that sacrifice."

"I'm still sorry though."

"So am I," Harry said, and found that he really didn't wish to talk about it any longer. "You do realise that puts Hesketh as the highest scorer. He'll be bloody unbearable now."

~

"Unwin," Charlie sauntered over to him, "Hart wants to see you about something," He was frowning and huffing, clearly irritated at being made messenger boy.

"Does he?" Eggsy asked, careful to keep his face straight and his voice even, the medal around his neck feeling that bit heavier. "What?"

"How should I know Unwin, I'm not a sodding carrier pigeon," Charlie said dismissively, rifling through the stack of papers in his hands. Paperwork for his transfer, Eggsy realised with a sick little twinge of jealousy. "But I do know that keeping him waiting would be stupid, so hop to it."

"Alright I'm going," he stood, wiping his sweat-damp hands on his trousers, "keep your hair on."

"Unwin?"

"What?"

Charlie peered at him hesitantly, eyes narrowed, before he eventually managed to push the words out. "Take care of yourself."

He marched off without waiting for Eggsy to reply, no doubt to lord his new position over those who'd failed to make the cut. Eggsy would miss him, in a round about sort of way - he was a good Lieutenant, when he stopped being a prick for two seconds. But it didn't stop the niggling regret that it could've been him returning to England with Harry in the morning. It'd make him miss Harry more than ever when he left, to know he'd had the chance to go with him and he'd turned him down. But he'd made his decision, and he knew full well it was the right one, for the sake of Ryan and Jamal and all the other blokes that were essentially family now - he couldn't walk out on them. He only hoped Harry wasn't summoning him to try and persuade him otherwise, despite saying he was alright with it - the last thing he wanted to do was to argue. He was too bloody tired for that.

He let himself into the room Harry'd been given in the temporary barracks without knocking. With a start, Harry looked up from the papers he had spread over the rickety desk, hair fallen from it's regimented style and glasses at the end of his nose. 

"Eggsy," he said, surprise smoothing away into a small smile as he swept the papers into a drawer. Eggsy had long since guessed there was more to Harry's job than met the eye, what with his 'nickname' and his sudden travel and the strange medal he'd given Eggsy to hold on to. His and Lieutenant Morton's little recruitment display that afternoon, and whatever was on those papers Harry had quickly hidden away, only made him more certain that what they did was something a little bit special. And Eggsy had had to tell him no. "Come in why don't you," he added dryly, in reference to his refusal to knock.

"Thanks," he shut the door behind him and looked briefly to the dusty floor, before making himself meet Harry's eye. "You er... you wanted to see me?"

"I did, yes." He carefully steepled his fingers together, elbows resting on the splintery wood of the cobbled together desk. Eggsy wanted to kiss them.

"Look, if this is about me turning that offer down," he started quickly, getting a foot in the door so to speak, before Harry could beat him too it, "I meant it Harry, I can't leave - "

"No, Eggsy," Harry cut him off and stood up, tie loosened and shirt rumpled, and Eggsy wanted to curl his hands into the creases and not let go, "I said I would respect your answer, and I meant it. I merely wished to see you away from prying eyes. My beautiful boy."

"Oh," Eggsy relaxed slightly with the realisation that Harry hadn't called him there to talk, and when he held out his arms to him, he went without a second thought.

~

Sometime later - after Harry had brought him off with his mouth, kissing and stroking his thighs, belly, cock, until Eggsy had forgotten everything that wasn't his lips, his breath, his tongue, _bloody hell_ \- they lay loosely tangled in the narrow cot shoved hastily into the corner of the room, passing a cigarette between them.

"I'm sorry," Eggsy blurted suddenly into the silence of the room, watching the smoke swirl into the dim corners, "I'm sorry I'm not coming with you." He didn't feel like he could ever say it enough times, as if repeating it once again could somehow make it stick.

"My dear boy," Harry said, his bed-warm body shifting alongside Eggsy's as he pressed a kiss to the mole on Eggsy's shoulder, "please don't apologise for loyalty. It's worth more than a considerable amount of other things."

"I s'pose," Eggsy said, burrowing a little closer under the thin blanket, "but that don't mean watching you leave in the morning'll be any less fucking awful."

"I know." He felt Harry take one last deep pull of the cig before stubbing it out. "I never thought I'd feel leaving anyone so keenly as I feel leaving you." 

"Jesus Christ Harry," Eggsy felt himself get a bit warm in the face at Harry's old fashioned sincerity, "you don't half lay it on thick," he said through a smile.

"I mean it," Harry sniffed.

"I know. I just ain't used to it yet." _Yet._ he hadn't meant to say 'yet.' It made it sound as though what they had was an indefinite thing, when he knew full well it would be stupid to hope.

"Mm." Harry hummed, and Eggsy felt it rumble through every inch of his body.

They lay in silence a while after that, Eggsy feeling slightly guilty at preventing Harry from getting organised and getting some sleep before the no doubt long and uncomfortable day of travelling that awaited him in the morning. Not guilty enough to leave him be, though. He tried to press each sensation firmly onto his memory, hard enough to leave an imprint in his mind for him to revisit during the long days - weeks, months, hopefully not longer - they'd have to spend apart. The smell of him: warm skin and sleep and sex, soap and a faint whiff of the expensive scent he wore, the slightly musty heaviness of the cloth of his uniform, brass and boot polish, smoke and gun metal and the cream he used to keep his hair in check. The taste - the ever-present hint of cigarettes on his tongue, a lingering sweetness from the bag of pear drops Eggsy had discovered in the pocket of his greatcoat, a trace of the sourness from Eggsy's own release between his lips. The way their bodies fell together, the warmth of Harry's breath on the back of his neck, soft cock at the small of Eggsy's back, Harry's rough fingertips rubbing absent circles at his hip, even the scratchy sheets they were twisted up in. He hoped the memory would be enough. Eggsy'd always thought he got on alright by himself, fiercely independent, him against the world, but the thought of doing without Harry again was more daunting than he'd ever expected. 

"May I write to you?" Harry asked abruptly, as though it had been on the tip of his tongue for some time and he'd only just managed to push it out. 

"You what?" he twisted around in Harry's grasp to look up at him.

"I've cursed myself time and time again for not asking before." Harry looked hesitant, not something he did often, in Eggsy's experience. "I - I suppose I was concerned that any fondness you might have for me would fade while we were apart, and you'd end up feeling obligated to keep writing even though you might not want to."

"Is that right..." it was something he'd worried about now and then but the other way around - Harry growing tired of him, one more grubby soldier amongst the millions, cannon fodder, replaceable. It seemed mad that Harry could have the same fear. "What changed your mind about askin' then?"

"I realised that the few letters we might exchange would be worth the risk of you growing bored of me in the end. I'd rather have them than hear nothing from you at all while we're apart, even if the sentiment was only temporary." 

"I can't believe you could even - " Eggsy shook his head in fond disbelief. "Was you always this dramatic, or is it only me what gets the privilege?" 

"I believe most of my acquaintances would say that ship had sailed long before I met you, darling," he smiled softly, his eyes warm and crinkled at the edges. "So, may I?"

Eggsy laughed freely, threw his arms around Harry's neck and kissed him soundly on the mouth, almost jostling the two of them right out of the flimsy cot. "Of course you bloody can, you great idiot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was meant to be all Harry's PoV, but I accidentally slipped into Eggs halfway through woops. I swear down, this gets soppier with every chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got longer than intended, so I've split it into two littler ones. So we know where we're at - Eggsy's mostly in France, Harry's all over the place, it's probably 1944, and this continues to be rife with historical inaccuracy.

_My dear boy,_  
_You gave me permission to write to you, and I'm afraid it's a privilege I shall abuse terribly. You needn't feel like you're obligated to write back - though I should very much like to hear how you're faring - it's enough for me to know that you might look over my letters every now and then, and think of me. If you do wish to contact me, however, send your letters to the address enclosed, and they'll find me. Please take care of yourself, and rest assured I shall be writing to you again very soon._  
_H._

 

Even though the first letter he received from Harry was mostly inane formalities, Eggsy couldn't stop himself grinning as he read and re-read the words on the page. He got the impression that Harry's handwriting would be naturally spiked and scrawling if left to it's own devices, but with the years of careful schooling no doubt drilled into him, the letters had been forced into something more elegant and looped, the occasional jagged line slipping through the net. He whiled away the time spent cramped in slapdash barracks and tramping through the damp countryside imagining Harry as a young boy in a chalk-dust classroom, getting his knuckles wrapped for his poor handwriting. His own first letter was decidedly less formal.

 

 _Of course I'll write back you daft sod. Isn't like there's much else to do for now anyway, between all the... well, you know how it goes. Write as often as you like mate, it'll take my mind off things. I bet your handwriting hasn't always been that nice either, how long did it take to get it so fancy? Puts mine to shame, it does. As for taking care of myself, I think we both know I've every right to worry as much as you, what with how you spend your time, I ain't stupid. Til next time then._  
_Love,_  
_E._

 

He hadn't really meant to put 'love.' He did it without thinking, as an ingrained way of ending a letter, after years of writing only to his mum, and even then rarely. But Harry noticed, of course he did, and apparently took it to heart.

 

_My darling,_  
_I'm well aware you're not stupid, particularly following your rather shrewd comment about my handwriting. You're right of course, as a boy my masters despaired of the utter mess that was my penmanship. It took years and rather a lot of nasty little punishments to get it up to scratch, I assure you. I always take care of myself, but if it sets your mind at rest, I shall take extra care, for you._  
_All my love,_  
_H._

Oh. Seeing it written down, what in his own letter he'd intended as nothing more than an affectionate if flippant close to the note suddenly looked a lot more than that. Did he love Harry? Maybe. Thinking about him helped get Eggsy through particularly shit days, made him miserable when he dwelled on how long it would be until he might see him again, made his chest flutter when letters were handed out, just in case there was one for him. Before Harry, he might have snuck off for a bit of fun with some bloke or another, another soldier if he could trust him, a local girl or boy if they were near somewhere populated - one awful week a mate from home had copped it, and he'd spent a string of blurry days snogging everybody he could in a misguided attempt to make himself feel better - but now he couldn't get his head around it. He didn't want any other bloke. From then on, over the next few weeks they were in contact, Eggsy probably meant it when he ended his letters with love.  
In between the scraps of everyday life, ramblings about the weather and his mates, other, more private pieces of Eggsy began to slip through into his letters. Nothing too damning of course, there were censors and he wasn't an idiot, just little thoughts he usually would've kept to himself that he handed over to Harry without thinking twice on it. 

 

_It was my little sister's birthday today. I was home for it last year, not on purpose mind, I just got lucky my leave matched up with the date. She'll be four, and mum'll be trying her best to scrape something good together with her rations. No doubt she'll manage, she's a whizz in the kitchen, my mum. I hope Daisy doesn't remember any of this._

 

He'd gotten unexpectedly angry while was penning that particular letter, really fucking angry that he wasn't at home with his family when they needed him. And Eggsy didn't get angry easily. Defensive yes, and frustrated about the lack of difference he could make in the world, but genuine anger, hot and consuming, was something he rarely felt. He'd had to stop writing for a bit, smoke a cig and calm down before he got back to it.

 

 _Things go on the same as always here. We was having a chat about our families back home the other day. A lot of blokes here lost their dads or uncles or what have you in first go. You must've been caught up in that one too. I never thought of that._

 

Or rather he had, but in the vague and shadowy terms of someone else's past that wasn't his business to rummage around in. Perhaps Harry would have the chance to tell him about it in person, one day. 

 

_Is that how you got that medal? For something you did then? I bet it was something terribly heroic and brave that you'll play down and pretend like it was no trouble at all, you rascal._

 

Every now and then as the platoon was dragged hither and thither, Eggsy would see some bloke or another with that same little pink and gold medal - like the one Harry had given him and he kept on a chain around his neck - who would tip him a barely there wink or a smile before vanishing. One bloke in a grubby bar on the border had studied him for a long while, proclaimed it was nice to meet Harry's boy and bought him a drink before sauntering out. It wasn't often, maybe four times in total, but more than enough for Eggsy to have noticed something was up. He'd have to ask Harry what the fuck that was all about when he saw him next, whenever that might be.

 

_There's so many things I want to talk to you about when I see you next, letters just aren't the same as face to face. Sounds daft, but I feel like I've known you ages, not only a handful of hours spent in the same room and a few months of swapping letters. But it's thinking about you that keeps me going some days, and I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth._  
_Love,_  
_E._

 

~

Hundreds of miles away, Harry stormed back into HQ after the worst day he'd had for a long while. The objective of his mission had been achieved, but with considerably more bloodshed than he'd anticipated - his opponent hadn't gone down quietly, and when he had, he'd ensured he'd taken as many with him as possible. Harry doubted he'd ever be able to visit Athens again without feeling queasy.  
He hadn't wanted to talk to anyone at all, intent on going straight to his office to lie down for a bit, but the walk took him directly past Merlin's office, the door of which was uncharacteristically propped open. 

"Galahad," he called to him without looking up from the cigarette lighter he was tinkering with of all things, the taught line of his back facing the open door. "Can I have a word?"

Harry rather thought not. He'd been in communication with Merlin through the entirety of his disastrous mission, and so he knew the other man was well aware of just how much he wouldn't want to talk about it. "Merlin, I really don't think - "

"Harry," Merlin interrupted softly before he could start his tirade, twisting around to look at him over the top of his glasses. "It's nothing like that. A letter came while you were away. Thought it might cheer you up, you grumpy sod. Usual place." He smiled in his ever so slight and barely noticeable way, inclining his head towards the letter tray on his desk before pointedly looking back to the lighter.

He was right, infuriatingly. Harry went to pick up the letter from Eggsy from the corner of the desk, where Merlin had always left them for him since they'd started writing to each other some months back. In an instant, Harry felt more at ease - the familiar rounded handwriting on the envelope, the heaviness of the coarse, army issue writing paper, the thought that Eggsy had set aside the time to write to him, and that his darling boy ended every letter with his love.  
There was no way for him to know it would be the last one he'd receive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooo.......  
> This chapter's a bit filler-y, and I'm not totally happy with it but I don't think I will be at this point. Back to the actual plot I have outlined next time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written any of this for ages, so I'll have to add probable continuity errors to the list of sketchy things about this fic. Prepare yourself for the vaguest battle scene ever attempted.

It happened outside a church, of all places. With the sort of neatness and calmness from those lying in wait for them that they must have known they were coming. It was chaos soon after though, men shooting from the long glass-less windows of the squat little church, others ducking for cover behind headstones shattered by past heavy fire. Eggsy's company were soon scattered about, lost in the dim predawn mist and flying earth and rubble, shouts of pain mixed with orders from both sides. 

"Get a fucking move on Unwin, unless you actually _want_ to be blown to bits or taken prisoner for fucks sake!" his Captain bellowed at him as he ran past, breath steaming in the cold air as he vainly attempted to round up what was left of his men out of danger's way. 

"Sir!"

Then he was gone again, and Eggsy could see no one from his company in the gloom of early morning, desperation rising as he staggered about in what was hopefully the right direction, tripping and falling over a dead soldier slumped over a half-missing headstone. The breath left his body as he fell hard to the ground, winded, cold mud between his fingers. He tried to gather his wits and think sensibly, to make out his location, though it was easier said than done when lying in a mess of blood and mud and rubble, unable to see through the lingering mist, smoke and dust in his eyes, unable to hear over the shouts and the gunfire and the ringing in his ears. But then he saw him. 

_Harry._

Beautiful and deadly through all the chaos, Harry fought with grace and vigour not befitting the muddy, messy and nasty scuffle they were caught up in, so precise and effective that Eggsy didn't even pause to think on why it was that Harry was suddenly there with no explanation. It was such a relief to see him again after so many months of long absence, cold nights remembering the scant few times he'd been able to sleep soundly with Harry close by. Of exchanging letters that, as nice as they were, were nothing compared to the sight of him, the feel of him. The things he'd had to witness, and to do, since they were last together. Everything else fell away for a moment in the pure happiness of Harry's presence, and he simply watched. However, his close observation meant he had an excellent view of when a blast went off close by, knocking both Harry and his assailant off their feet. The world was still and silent to him as Harry fell in a graceful arc, where he lay heavy and unmoving on the ground.  
Eggsy stared in horror before another shout pulled him forcibly back to his senses, and he crawled across to Harry, staying as low to the ground and hopefully escaping attention as well he could as he dragged his body across the mud and debris. He was out cold, but breathing thank the Lord. Eggsy's hand shook as he pressed his fingertip gently to the deep cuts bleeding sluggishly from the side of Harry's head in disbelief.

"Harry," Eggsy said as he brushed aside the loose rubble and dirt that littered Harry's uniform, a completely pointless thing to do given that he was unconscious, but Eggsy couldn't help the irrational, slightly hysterical thought that Harry wouldn't have wanted to look untidy. His voice wavered more than he was willing to give credit to, "Harry - _fuck."_

He was unable to look away from the blood on his face, dribbling and smeared along his cheek and forehead, with no way of knowing just how badly he was injured. They had to move out of the way, but what if he hurt Harry more by moving him... _shit._ Despite Eggsy's determination to stay level headed about it, the blood steadily dripping from Harry's head made him panic somewhat. His own limbs felt sluggish and uncooperative, and he dimly wondered whether he was a bit out of it from the shock of the sudden attack and Harry's fall, the pain of his own minor injuries finally kicking in.  
Before there was time for him to think about what he ought to do next, the wet nose of a dog was suddenly sniffling about at his hands and at Harry's face, Eggsy still too dazed to bat it away, or to notice the sudden cease in the fighting around him.

"Pankhurst?" Once he got a good look at the the dog, covered in mud and dust as he was, there was no doubting that it was Lieutenant Morton's poodle. "The bloody hell did you come from?"

"Eggsy," just as suddenly as her dog had appeared, Roxanne Morton was kneeling at Eggsy's side, giving Harry's still inert body a worried glance before taking a firm grip on Eggsy's arm and hauling him to his feet, "up you get now." She smelt like gunpowder and lily of the valley. 

"But Harry," he said weakly, struggling to get his feet under him, breathing hard, "I can't just leave him here - "

"He'll be fine, Eggsy," the Lieutenant said firmly, still gripping him hard to keep him upright, making him look her in the eye, "listen to me. We'll take care of him, alright?"

"We? But - "

He broke off when two men rushed over, both officers, who swiftly checked over Harry's injuries, muttering to each other as they did so. To Eggsy's bafflement, one of them was the bloke who'd bought him a pint at the grubby bar on the border some weeks back. The other was much sterner looking, wearing glasses, and Eggsy had a feeling he'd been present at Chester King's inspection of his company so many months ago. They were both wearing the little pink and gold medals the same as the one he wore around his neck. Before he could form another protest, the two men had whisked Harry away, and Lieutenant Morton was helping him limp towards a truck that had appeared seemingly from nowhere, and packed with what remained of his company. 

~

A couple of hours later, Eggsy was at the dressing station where he and what was left of his company after the attack had been patched up, waiting around for orders of some sort. Although he felt considerably more with it than he had an hour ago, he was still a bit dazed and out of sorts, and unable to keep the sight of Harry's blood between his fingers out of his head. He wandered about, checking in with the others, relieved to discover Ryan and Jamal at least had made it through, battered but unharmed. Mostly he just sat by himself, at a loss for what to do, clutching Harry's medal tight between his fingers until the metal was warm and damp from the heat of his hands.  
But before long, the bright and stretching stillness of the morning was broken by the rumbling of an engine approaching them through the sparse trees. A motorcycle, he realised when it came within sight, with a large dog running alongside it. Eggsy was too caught up in admiring the machine when it came to a stop to spare much notice for the rider. But when they removed their helmet and goggles to hand a note over to one of the frazzled nurses, there was no mistaking her, nor the poodle that was sniffing about the nurse's feet. It was Lieutenant Morton, brave and beautiful Roxanne Morton, who had confessed to him during their first brief meeting that she was terrified of flying, but he had no doubt could kill a man with her thighs if it took her fancy. Before he could think on it, he dashed over to her, ignoring the pain shooting through his twisted ankle as best he could, practically cornering her in his haste. 

"Miss," he panted as he approached her, regulations out of the window in his anxiety over Harry's fate, "Harry. I have to know - please Miss, I have to know if he's alright. I - fuck." He belatedly bit his tongue after his cursing - army staff she may be, but he didn't like to make a habit out of swearing in front of ladies. He scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes, well aware he was being dangerously obvious about how much Harry meant to him, which probably wasn't sensible since he had no idea how well the woman really knew Harry. But he really couldn't bring himself to care. 

"Eggsy," she cut quickly through his disorganised attempt at persuasion, mouth tight, "I made sure you got back to your own company for a reason." The stern set of her face softened ever so slightly. "It's too dangerous for you to get mixed up with us."

That prompted a whole 'nother set of questions he'd been thinking on ever since he'd first met Harry, and had never given voice to. But they were for another time, when he knew for sure if Harry was alright. "What, like I'm not in danger every sodding day as it is?" he laughed low and without humour.

"Harry wouldn't want to put you at risk unnecessarily," she tried instead, perfect eyebrow arched in exasperation. 

"Well he should've thought of that before he shagged me then, shouldn't he," Eggsy hissed, in one last desperate attempt to shock her into complying, which was incredibly stupid of him considering the trouble it could have landed them both in, but it was too late to reconsider. Turned out he needn't have worried anyway.

"Oh bloody hell," she sighed, and looked beseechingly down at her poodle, "men."

"Miss?"

Her attention snapped back up to him. "I really fucking shouldn't - " she broke off, her eyes falling to the medal hanging from Eggsy's neck where he'd forgotten to tuck it back inside his uniform in haste. "Is that Harry's?"

"Yeah," Eggsy said, feeling his face flush dully at her scrutiny, "what of it?" 

"Nothing," she said quietly, "I just didn't know he'd given it to you." She contemplated him a moment longer, as though weighing him up in her head, before snapping the goggles back down over her eyes, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. "Come on then."

"I - what?"

"You have no idea how much trouble I could get into for this Unwin," she tugged her helmet back on, "so you owe me one. And it's Lieutenant, not 'miss.' But you Eggsy, can call me Roxy." 

"Roxy, how did I ever get by without you," he grinned, and clambered into the sidecar, Pankhurst the poodle licking delightedly at his face.

~

It took them half an hour of jolting along a rough track to reach their destination, what had once been a cluster of farm buildings barely visible from the road, blown to hell but efficiently patched up to be usable as barracks. Only it seemed to be something rather more than that... all the men dashing about looked far cleaner and healthier than Eggsy and his company, and much better equipped. They were carting about all manner of weaponry and equipment that he'd never seen before, maps and files spread over every surface. None of it could hold his attention for long. No matter how wonderful Roxanne might have been, apparently she wasn't high up enough to take him directly to Harry herself. But she did find somebody else who could do so.

"Oh. It's you," Merlin regarded him sternly from over the top of his clipboard. "I wondered if we might be seeing you, Private, after Lieutenant Morton informed me you were present when they found him."

"Merlin, I - "

"Come along then," Merlin turned on his heel and stalked off through the organised chaos of the place, Eggsy hurrying to follow. "This isn't strictly allowed, especially since you turned down a position with us. But Harry would throw a fit if he found out you were here and we didn't let you in."

"I was worried, I - " Eggsy swallowed, embarrassingly close to tears after the past few harrowing hours. "I was worried he was dead."

"No lad," Merlin paused and turned to give him his full attention, furrowed brow relaxing to look at Eggsy more kindly than the stuffy bloke ever had before, "it'll take more than that to put an end to the old bugger."

"And he'll be alright, yeah?" Despite Merlin's suggestion Harry was no longer in any danger, he couldn't help but be filled with images of Harry lingering painfully on for several agonising days more, before finally stuttering and dying. He'd seen it so many times already. 

"He'll be fine," Merlin said as he led Eggsy along a makeshift corridor, "there'll be some changes he'll have to make, and a blow to his vanity perhaps, but he'll be fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the hell does this have 99 subscriptions? Thanks guys :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ew writer's block. Very mild PTSD in this chapter. Not enough to tag it in my opinion, but enough that I feel I should mention it. And also more ridiculous floof.

He was in the garden of his parents' house. Harry would've known it anywhere; the slope of meticulously smooth lawn leading up to the steps at the back door, the angular grey facade made softer by the leafy sycamores surrounding it. It was odd that he should be there - he hadn't been there for years now, not since that last, angry meeting when his father had threatened to disinherit him, his mother hiding her tears behind a handkerchief and a glass of gin, his little brother sneaking confused glances from the doorway. So why on earth was he there now? Come to think of it, something was off, something more than just his inexplicable presence, that made the garden seem not quite right. It took a moment longer for him to realise that it was because he couldn't hear anything. The familiar green haven was silent, no rustle of leaves, nor the bubbling water of the fountain, no birds nor the click of the old gardener's shears. It was as though there was a pillow clamped over his ears, thick and stifling. But it didn't worry him overmuch, and didn't hold his attention when something shifted beside him from where he was sitting under the trees. 

In a blink, his vision was full of Eggsy's face, soft and smiling, made green and gold by the dappled leaves. The boy was saying something, though Harry couldn't quite make out what, just watched entranced as his pretty mouth stretched and pouted around the words, a flash of teeth as he laughed. He couldn't feel Eggsy's body, nor his own, but all the same he knew they were holding each other, watched as the dark gold of Eggsy's hair fluttered over his eyes that seemed at once too dark and too bright to be real. Harry wanted to reach out, to touch, feel the shift of warm skin and soft lips under his fingertips and tell Eggsy how much it meant that he was there with him, but his arms were too heavy and he couldn't find the breath to speak.

Then the sun behind Eggsy grew brighter, so much so that the sky was white and impossible to look at, making Eggsy's face nothing but shadow, smaller and further away until it was gone altogether, obliterated by the blinding whiteness. White that grew painful and stinging as it seeped into his head and behind his eyes, pulling him out of hazy, pleasant delirium and almost back into consciousness, gasping and shuddering, unaware that the tortured groan of pain was falling from his own throat until he felt a sting on his arm, and he faded back into nothingness.

The nothingness twisted itself into shapes he'd not seen for years, but ones that were impossible to forget, despite his best efforts and Merlin's advice not to keep them locked up. The dark walls of the trenches above his head as he sat crouched in the mud, rain falling silently on his unfeeling body. _But it was all over and done with,_ he told himself firmly, long since finished, and yet there he was. Sitting alone under the grey sky, the black walls of rotting wood and mud and sandbags feeling as though they were closing in around him, unable to move or feel, or even to cry or scream. When he next looked up, against his will, he was no longer alone. Eggsy was crouching alongside him, brightness made dull by the rolling clouds overhead and the mud and grime smeared across his face and uniform. His face was empty, hand reaching out, but whether it was for aid or accusation Harry didn't know. _But Eggsy can't have been there,_ he thought desperately. _He was too young, it wasn't safe, it was all over now, and what if he couldn't save him?_ It was all washed away before he had the chance to decide, the clouds parting and pulling him into another mangled memory.

It was sunny, the air thick and stagnant, and Harry was drifting heavy-limbed about the woods that surrounded his parents' house. He'd played there as a boy, knew every inch of the place, awash with great towering swathes of purple rhododendrons, with oak and ash and beech, hidden streams and badger sets in the sandy soil. It was where he used to take Rupert from school when he came to stay in the holidays, the two of them sneaking off to kiss under the cover of the trees. But Eggsy was there instead, moss green and sunshine yellow, laugh clear as water and Puckish in demeanour, always just out of reach and disappearing in and out of the dappled light through the trees, and Harry could never quite catch him. 

He was pulled from his fickle and fluttering dreams again for the briefest of moments, to see another version of Eggsy entirely. He looked decidedly more pale and drawn than the golden vision Harry had grown accustomed to in his sleep, and it was that, along with the ache in his head and the stiffness in his limbs, that convinced Harry that this time, he really was awake. Eggsy was there with him, in reality rather than just his subconscious, and Harry's last thought before he drifted off again was how happy that fact alone made him.

~

The next time Harry woke, it was decidedly less dramatic than the first time and much less pleasant than the second - he was more lucid and felt all the worse for it. Eggsy was there still, something which brought him more comfort than much else could, in his pain and groggy half awareness. 

_"Harry,"_ Eggsy was hovering over him in an instant, warm hand carefully clasping at Harry's own cool and stiff fingers, "you complete and utter tosspot, don't ever do that to me again, you 'ear?" Despite being dazed and dozy on what was probably an ungodly dosage of morphine, Harry's training and long years of ingrained habit took over, and he quickly looked the room over for signs of threat. He was being kept in the pokey room that served as an infirmary at their temporary HQ, it seemed. All clear then, and his eyes were back on Eggsy, who, quite frankly, looked awful. His jacket was missing, shirt stained and rumpled, hair a mess and he badly needed a shave, his face grey and eyes bleary. But he was there. 

"Terribly sorry," Harry said, out of reflex more than anything, since he wasn't certain what it was he was apologising for. His voice sounded like he'd been gargling sand. Rather felt like it too, actually. "Are you alright?" 

Eggsy snorted, grip tightening on Harry's hand and shaking his head in disbelief. "You're the one what's lying in an 'ospital bed after three days of being as good as dead to the world, and you're askin' _me_ if I'm - " he choked on his own words, looked like he was about to either laugh or cry. "Of course you are, you daft git."

"Apologies," Harry swallowed, trying to get some moisture back in his parched throat. "You don't look well, is all." 

"I'm fine, I - I thought you was going to die," Eggsy said quietly, and _ah,_ there it was. Come to think of, he did feel like he'd been kicked in the head by a Clydesdale, one of his eyes didn't seem to be co-operating, and his head felt heavy and tight with bandages. He remembered the cold, earthy smell of early morning, the ruined church, gunfire, the explosion... Kingsman's plan of attack hadn't gone quite as they'd intended, then. Not for the first time, and no doubt not the last. "Don't you bloody leave me again, Harry Hart."

Harry blinked at him, a little taken aback by the sudden force of Eggsy's words, sharp with relief and lingering fear. "Eggsy," he tried in vain to make his gritty voice sound soothing, "you know that - "

"I love you," Eggsy blurted, face flushed a blotchy pink under his tired eyes, jaw set and determined. "And I'm pretty sure you love me too, yeah? So if you tell me you don't out of some messed up plan to protect me, I _will_ be givin' you a slap, because you can't write shite like you did in them letters and then tell me - "

"I do."

Eggsy blinked. "You what?"

"I _do_ love you, Eggsy."

"Oh," Eggsy's face, momentarily slack with shock, broke into a sunny smile despite his exhausted pallor, and he pulled Harry's hand up to kiss it, smile pressed soft to his knuckles. "That's alright then."

He was more than happy to allow Eggsy to crawl up onto the bed with him, though there was barely enough room for him alone, and it creaked dangerously as Eggsy settled his warm weight along Harry's side. He was careful though, moving slowly so as not to jostle Harry's aching body or aggravate his head wound. Once they were as comfortable as they could get - he'd forgotten what it was to be so close to the boy, how much he'd missed the feel of him in his arms - he was more than content to sit and listen as Eggsy caught him up on all that had happened while he was unconscious. Apparently, Merlin had once again pulled some strings so that Eggsy wouldn't get into trouble for being missing from his company so long. It was worth whatever he would later decide Harry owed him for it, just to have Eggsy here.

"He's got some mad shit in his office, guv," Eggsy said, running his fingers in idle circles over the skin of Harry's hip where he'd nudged his pyjamas aside, "did you know he's working on a grenade what looks like a cigarette lighter? Genius, that is."

"Is that so?" Harry said, fighting not to smile. There had certainly been some developments while he'd been unconscious, if Merlin had accepted Eggsy enough to both let him in to stand watch over Harry's sickbed, _and_ to talk with him about what he was working on. Highly uncharacteristic, in fact. "It was very forthcoming of him to share that with you. Normally I'd have to threaten him to get such information."

"Nah, I picked the lock on his office door and had a look around," he felt Eggsy shrug. "You should tell 'im not to leave stuff like that lying around, anyone could get at it."

"Eggsy - "

"That was all I looked at, I swear." Eggsy smiled down at him sheepishly, and Harry drew him closer, stretching up to press a row of gentle kisses along his neck.

"God but I've missed you."

"Don't," Eggsy groaned, fingers tightening on Harry's hip, "you'll have me blubbing everywhere."

"But I want you to know," Harry said, thinking back on all the months of hoping beyond hope another letter would make it's way safely to his desk. "It's been utterly miserable without you, dear boy."

"And it's been utterly miserable sittin' here for three sodding days waiting for you to wake up," Eggsy said, though Harry could hear the smile in his voice, "so try and get some more sleep, yeah? I won't have you stayin' up talking pretty to me and wearing yourself out."

"Yes mother," said Harry primly, and despite his best efforts, fell asleep before he could hear Eggsy's reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy standing vigil at Harry's bedside while the idiot's gone and gotten himself laid up (again) transcends all time and alternate universes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all gratuitous fluff with a tiny bit of smut thrown in. Sorry not sorry.

They didn't get to see each other as much as Eggsy would've liked. It wasn't as bad as it was before - what with the war being over, Eggsy was back out of the army at least - but they were both kept busy enough that their time together was a bit hit and miss. Harry was called in to work a lot - just because the war was officially over, it didn't mean conflict was over. Numerous crises and power struggles kept popping up all over the place, some more serious than others, but they all needed stopping just the same. He was barely home more than two days in a row, and yeah Eggsy missed him when he was away, but it wouldn't be forever. And it wasn't like he was bored or nothing. He'd finally been filled in on exactly what it was that Harry - and Merlin, Roxy, and even Charlie, now - did for a living. Working for Kingsman gave him more purpose than he'd ever had before, and he loved every minute. And though he wasn't a knight, there were more than enough thrills to be had on Kingsman's payroll without a fancy nickname. 

Since the two of them were so often kept occupied and kept apart by their work, Eggsy was especially keen to make the most of what time they could scrounge together. On the few occasions they'd actually seen each other face to face during the war, time had always been so bloody tight, and there was always the chance they'd be discovered or one of them summoned, so they'd had to keep things relatively simple. Y'know... in the bedroom. If they even got that far. Now though, with the gift of time and a few creature comforts, they were able to do things more thoroughly, much to their mutual delight.  
Harry was lying back on his bed - his actual bed in his actual house now that the bomb damage had been repaired, and not his room at the Kingsman manor where they still had to be careful - Eggsy seated in his lap, clenching his teeth as he adjusted to the unfamiliar feeling of Harry inside him. 

"Are you alright, darling?" Harry said stiffly, clearly trying to hold himself in check for Eggsy's sake, bless him. He ran his fingers lightly over the tight line of Eggsy's jaw to ease the tension, brow creased in concern. "Do you want to stop?"

"That's the last bloody thing I want," Eggsy gave him a flicker of a smile, unclenched one of his hands from the sheets to take hold of Harry's fingers, kiss the heel of his hand. For all his lover's flash and bravado, in quiet moments such as this, Eggsy found a funny sort of enjoyment in being the one to offer reassurance. "Just give me a sec, yeah?"

"Alright." Harry let Eggsy continue mouthing at his fingers, his palm, the softness of his wrist, other hand falling to grip gently at his hip, rubbing small circles over the jut of it. 

Eggsy closed his eyes, the tang of soap and clean sweat from Harry's skin on his lips. The solid warmth of Harry's body between his thighs, the soothing pressure at his hip. A musty smell of lavender and unused sheets that Harry's house had accumulated while they'd both been away, the lingering smoke of the cigarette they'd shared on the walk home between cold fingers. The sound of his own shallow breaths, the rustle of sheets as Harry shifted beneath him. The stretch of Harry's cock in him, the initial burn easing into a more manageable ache, and he shifted his weight a little out of curiosity. He both heard and felt the hitch in Harry's breath at the movement, and keeping his eyes closed was no longer an option.

Harry was watching him, lips pursed in an effort to stifle himself, the scar at his temple and slight flush of his face made darker by the dim room. Christ, the sight of him alone was enough to make Eggsy half mad with the want of him, impatient and desperate. He rolled his hips tentatively, the unexpected jolt of pleasure making him gasp, drop Harry's hand with the sudden need to hold himself up. 

"Fuck," Eggsy croaked.

"Alright?" Harry looked up at him, genuine worry beneath the dark eyes and deep breaths of want.

"More than," Eggsy was mildly surprised by the sincerity of his own voice, so threw in a wink in an attempt to sound less bloody soppy. Which of course Harry saw right through. 

"You're beautiful," he said, warmth of his praise sending that familiar crackle of lust up Eggsy's back. "You're always beautiful. But like this, my darling, like this you are beyond compare."

"Hell, Harry," Eggsy gritted out, rocking his hips again, "you don't half know how to make a boy blush."

"I've no interest, unless that boy is you."

"You old romantic."

They eased into a slow rhythm, a gentle push and pull that steadily grew more heated, faster, that had the pair of them breathing hard and grasping at every inch of the other they could reach. Before long, Eggsy was cursing and Harry uttering a continuous litany of praise that made his belly ache with the need of him, each word quickening the fluttering pulse of want inside him.

"So good, my darling boy. So perfect. So beautiful. You're doing so well Eggsy, so good for me. Show me how good you are my dearest, my darling..."

It was the pleasure he took in Harry's words, the feeling of pleasing him, the way Harry rocked up into him just right, fingers running down the curve of his back damp with sweat, that merged together in a glorious tumble to push Eggsy over the edge. He cried out, blindly lowering himself down to pull Harry into a mess of open-mouthed kisses as he met his release, felt Harry's breath against his lips as he gasped out his name and followed him.

"I love you Harry. So fucking much," he said later as they lay tangled in the sheets, pulled himself in closer, sleepily buried his face in under Harry's chin. "You know that, yeah?"

Harry hummed, pressed a kiss to the top of Eggsy's head. "I'll never tire of hearing it. Nor saying it myself. I love you."

~

Honestly, Harry had never let himself think this far ahead. The concept of things 'after the war' wasn't one he'd troubled himself with at the time, partly because he had more pressing matters he needed to focus on, and partly to avoid tempting fate. But whether he'd made it through the war or not, he'd never have guessed he'd find himself living such a rosy existence. Of course, there was still the danger and the thrill of his work with Kingsman, but that was what he'd lived for for more years than he dared to count, he took pride in his work. And it was easy to push blood and glory aside on days like the one he was currently enjoying. 

The two of them were stretched out on the lawn outside the manor, Harry sitting while Eggsy lay next to him, his head in Harry's lap. They were far enough away from the house that they wouldn't be stumbled upon or seen from the windows - though Merlin, Roxy, and one or two of the others knew the nature of their relationship, there were some who were better left in the dark. Which rankled rather, as Harry would love to figuratively shout from the top of Buckingham Palace how much he cared for the young man he was fortunate enough to have in his life.  
It was warm, enough that they had both forgone their jackets, ties loosened, making the most of the blue skies and sunshine, the hint of a breeze that made the heat of the day more bearable. There was a book by Harry's side that he'd long ago given up reading, his fingers instead stroking softly through Eggsy's sun-warmed hair as the other man sighed and shifted in happiness under his attentions. That he should find such contentment with anyone was something Harry had never expected and long since given up on. And yet, he and Eggsy had embarked on something of a life together, blissfully happy, more so than Harry felt he deserved, sometimes. 

He was desperately proud of Eggsy for how well he'd taken to joining Kingsman's ranks. Taken to it like a duck to water, not that Harry had expected anything else. His weapon scores were of course excellent, his grasp of mission planning and tactics sometimes a little exuberant, but competent enough. He was proving to be rather good behind the wheel, was firm friends with Roxanne, and was already eyeing up the dogs. Harry might just put him forth as a proposal the next time a position came up, if Eggsy was agreeable. But that all seemed very far off and unimportant for now, in the drowsy haze of a perfect afternoon.

"You're the best thing what's ever happened to me you know," Eggsy said, eyes still closed, cutting neatly through Harry's absent musings.

"Is that so?"

"Yep," Eggsy cracked open an eye to smile lazily up at him. "Don't let that inflate your ego or nothin', your head's big enough as it is."

"Charming," Harry said. "Fortunately I feel the same way about you, or you might find yourself in trouble for your outrageous cheek."

"You mean it?" Eggsy said, glimmer in his eye fading to something more serious, though a smile still quirked the corner of his lips. "Even though I'm from the wrong side of the river, young enough to be your son, and you could never parade around snobby dinners and garden parties with the likes of me on your arm?"

"You know well enough how inconsequential I find the first two things, and as for the last..." he paused, let his mouth curl into a smirk, "I'm certain that if we could find you the right dress, you could charm your way through it with very little trouble."

Eggsy snorted in laughter, swiped half-heartedly up at him, smile back in full. "Aw Harry, if you wanted me to dress pretty for you sometime, all you had to do was ask."

"You, dear boy, are incorrigible."

"That so?"

"Mm," Harry let his fingers continue there absent wandering through Eggsy's hair. "And I wouldn't change you for the world."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me :)


End file.
